“Believe it or not, there are people who bow down and worship him as if he were some type of god. And while I wouldnever,because of how off-putting he is, I won’t deny that he is good at what he does. He’s earned his title.”
“At least I’m not alone in thinking about hispleasantdisposition.” It was more reassuring than he thought. “I’ll see about him beinggood.My father’s hand is up his ass, so it’s hard not to picture him bending over backwards to please him.” That was the truth. If Dad had set this shit up with Thorne as his instigator, there was no way he wasn’t pleasing him on the side. Dad loved an able body, someone who was easy to mold.
“Lucky for you,” the shifted timbre came from behind me, “tomorrow morning is our scheduled sparring session with the Commander himself.”
Pivoting, I turned to glance at the man who’d spoken, the one who Simon had introduced as Liam. His coffee-colored gaze found mine, light brown brows coming to rest over it. Up close, it became clear that, even though his hair was long, his beard was freshly trimmed. Our height difference became more apparent as the gap between us closed. But where he lacked in height, he had size, and I wasn’t even ashamed to admit that his chiseled body had caught my attention.
“6:00 a.m., I’m aware,” I said through a grimace. “I’ve never been alive at that time before, and with him already putting a target on my back, I’m sure it’s going to be worse than hell.”
“Oh, it is,” Simon responded, his palm slapping my back before he squeezed my shoulder as if we’d known one another for far longer than we had. “Graves is ruthless when it comes to training, so my one piece of advice to offer is: don’t eat a big breakfast.”
A groan escaped my lips, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad with the two of them there. Simon matched me line for line, and Liam, well, he seemed chill enough to mind his business. I’m sure we’d bond eventually.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to eat anything,” I answered. I didn’t even want to think about tomorrow, and I needed a distraction like I always did. “Other than training, what else is there to do, like forfun,or does that word not exist in this place?”
“Believe it or not, on the weekends, we go into town. Hit the bars. Indulge. Do whatever the fuck we want.” Liam bent down, snatching a towel off the top of his bag. Wiping the sweat from his face, he continued. “Weekdays? Patrol routes. Sparring. Training. Practice interrogations. The list goes on.”
God bless, I wasn’t stuck in these walls. It just depended on—“What types of bars?” How did I word this in case they weren’topen? “Is there a good variety?”
Solid. Fucking solid, Oren.
Simon chuckled, glancing out of the corner of his eye at me. “Oh, buddy. If you’re asking about gay bars, you’ve undoubtedly met your match.”
A chuckle escaped me, and I rubbed at the back of my neck. Shit, I really did struggle to hide myself. “Oh, good to know.”
I could survive a week of beatings until the weekend, right? Probably—especially—if I got a good fuck in.
CHAPTER FOUR
OREN
Excessive pressure on my shoulders snapped my eyes open as I shoved away whoever the hell decided to wake me up.
“What the fuck?” I grumbled, rubbing the corners of my eyes with a ferocity no one should experience. It took forever to gain my bearings, and once a familiar hazel gaze met mine, I immediately raised my hands. “Fuck, sorry, Simon.”
“Dude, you’ve got ten minutes until we have to be out there. Liam already left, but I didn’t want you to have to experience the brunt of Throne’s frustration alone if you happened to be late.”
“Shit.”
Shit.
I scrambled out of bed, the white sheet tangling around my feet as I hopped out of the mess I’d wound up in.
“Which uniform?”
Panic didn’t begin to describe the desperation in my tone. It was one thing to elicit a reaction from the man, but I didn’t want to submit to his torture if I could avoid it willingly.
Clad in my boxers, I knew I looked pathetic as I stared at Simon, impatiently waiting, until I realized he was wearing the goddamn uniform I needed to be in. God, I was tired, and it was eating at my ability to think.
I grabbed the shirt with the emblem, tugging it over my head before slipping on the dark camouflage pants. The boots were a struggle, but with Simon’s hurried encouragement, I managed to lace them just enough to start running. And hell, did we bothrunto the training area where Thorne would be arriving any minute.
Liam stood next to Lucas, the Vipers’ sixth squad member, and waved us over. He pointed at his waist, and with a quick tuck of my shirt, he gave me a stupid thumbs up.
Simon nudged me into line with them, hinting at the correct stance—arms behind our backs, shoulders square, eyes at the skyline. God, Thorne really was a grade-A asshole.
As if my thoughts were his summoning, the doors we’d run through seconds ago opened, and out strolled the cocky son of a bitch. The uniform he wore was similar to ours: dark camouflage and long-sleeved, with the unit's emblem etched into a shoulder patch instead of the chest. But it wasn’t the Viper's appearance that sent my eyes rolling; it was his title slapped straight on his chest as if the sight of it would somehow make me change my mind on howlittlerespect he deserved.
Another male walked beside him, clad similarly. The two kept pace with one another as if it were a rehearsal they’d practiced thousands of times. His hair was short and sandy blonde, neither buzzed nor particularly long. As they approached, his counterpart said something, and for the first time, a genuine smile coated Thorne’s features. But just as soon as it was there, it was gone.
